Frustration vs. Fruition

Menu

Tag Archives: obese

Right. I know I’m missing some results posts – but what I really want to blog about right now is…

Guys.

I’ve probably mentioned this before, but I live in Collegetown, USA. Guys my age are more scarce than helpful employees in a big box store. I honestly want to card any guy I do meet to verify I’m not flirting with jail bait. Apparently I also don’t notice when men notice me, say complimentary things about me, or flirt with me, either. And while there are a couple of guys I know that I’d be interested in dating, they’re not biting.

So I went fishing online. That’s right, I dove into eHarmony’s pond. Friends have been encouraging me to do so (even to the point of bribery) for quite some time, but I just wasn’t ready until now.

I won’t lie, it’s an ego-boost to have guys contact me with interest. It’s also nice to be able to kind of weed out any pot-smoking, perpetually unemployed anarchists. However, it feels far too close to the same process I use to select and purchase a pair of stilettos online. We’ll see how it goes.

It’s just nice to finally feel ready to date – I haven’t for a long time. Right now, my self-esteem is at an all-time high and I’m taking advantage of that.

A recent event has kind of marred the whole idea of relationships for me, but even that is being tempered by my newly-found self-esteem and confidence. Instead of blaming myself for a situation, I’m laying it where it belongs: at the feet of two very selfish people. New Lisa is not about to let anyone screw up her success.

Fair warning: this blog may be filled with my date escapades in the future. Let’s hope my dating pool contains more Prince Charmings than frogs.

Okay, so I’ve been absent. What have I been doing? Out living life to the fullest!

Partying in some scandalous outfits. Training for a 10K in September. And yesterday, kayaking for the first time ever.

Beyond the general scary aspects of kayaking (tipping over, falling out, and you know, drowning, etc.), I was kept from jumping in and floating down the river because I was too nervous that Old Lisa wouldn’t fit in the kayak at all. Or I would be so heavy I’d make it sink. Or extra tippy. Or that if I tipped, my hefty hips would trap me in the kayak.

New Lisa donned a life-jacket and took the plunge, so to speak. I actually managed to stay in the boat for the entire 3 hour trip (go me!).

That isn’t to say that I’ve been sliding. Actually, I’ve had a pretty decent four weeks, weight-wise, since my last post:

Week 80 Results:
Starting stats:
Weight: 247 lbs.
BMI: 36.5

Today’s stats:
Weight: 169.8 lbs.
BMI: 25.1

Week 81 Results:
Starting stats:
Weight: 247 lbs.
BMI: 36.5

Today’s stats:
Weight: 168.2 lbs.
BMI: 24.8

Week 83 Results:
Starting stats:
Weight: 247 lbs.
BMI: 36.5

Today’s stats:
Weight: 168 lbs.
BMI: 24.8

Where is Week 82, you ask? I pretty much hopped aboard the S.S. Failboat. I went to my sister’s cabin for the weekend and, horror of horrors, forgot my scale. By the time I got back, the next time I would’ve weighed-in was Tuesday morning, and with that being half-way through the week, I just decided to wait until Saturday.

Recap: I love life. And I’m loving it at a “normal” BMI. I’m continuing to lose weight even though I’m running long distances (to me, anyways) four times per week.

Two words: HECK YES.

(There’s some Wisconsin-talk for you. See? It does pop out every now and then.)

As quickly as I’ve gone through clothing during this journey, there are a few pieces that I just can’t let escape from my closet.

In some cases, the reasons for letting these too-big reminders of my pudge days stick around are easy to understand. For example, my pair of 2XL purple pajama pants have escaped the trash bin because a) they’re extremely comfy and b) they match my bedroom decor. I’m a big loser; I like things to match. It makes me squee with creative joy when something that’s in my bedroom (in this case, my legs in purple pants) matches my bedroom.

Or, there are my sorority shirts. More commonly known as “letters,” I used to have enough of these to wear every day of the week during college, if I so chose (and often I did). If you’re a newbie to the fraternal world, throwing away letters is simply unacceptable. Doing so is the equivalent of using Old Glory to bag and toss your dog’s excrement on your evening stroll around the neighborhood. So I carefully bagged most of my letters and have them in storage with the rest of my old clothes, even though it’s not permitted to sell your letters to someone who is not a member of your sorority.

One sweatshirt remained at the back of my closet, like a stretchy gray reminder of my flab-but-fun days gone by. I reasoned that I kept it because, really, can sweatshirts be too big? Hardly. But recently, I felt empowered to let it go (to someone on whom it will also be too big, but let’s not go there).

Most of my previous bar/hookerwear wardrobe has remained unscathed as well. The glint of sequins and regret kind of seems to wink at me from the far reaches of my closet every time I open it. Tank tops, halter tops, extremely odd-strap tops… all worn previously (with a shrug sweater) to highlight my one good feature, my extreme cleavage. (As if my flashy bewb-age would somehow disguise the fact that I was fat from the eligible bachelors in the establishment? A.k.a. Look at my DDs. Be hypnotized by them. Don’t notice my fat rolls underneath. Oh, Old Lisa’s logic. So sad.)

Hiding in shame in a garment bag is my bridesmaid’s dress from my sister Stacey’s wedding. Don’t get me wrong, the dress is beautiful; I just regret the size on the tag. The process of trying on bridesmaids dresses was painful. Sample dresses did not come in my former size. Often, I was left to hang out and consult with my sister as the other two ‘maids slipped on dress after dress. I am grateful for the bride’s kindness, though; if there was a sample dress that I might possibly fit into, she asked me to try it on, even if I knew there was no way she could be considering it for her wedding. (I remember one particularly hideous pumpkin-colored number. Gag.) But on the day of her wedding, even if I hated my weight, I felt beautiful in that dress, with that makeup, that hair. So I keep the dress as a reminder of both celebrating a wonderful day with a wonderful couple, and to remember that there were days, even pre-Weight Watchers, that I felt like a beautiful person.

Size 20 remnants aside, it’s fairly rare for my clothes to actually fit me, anyways. As I type this I’m wearing a tank top that’s too big, layered with a t-shirt that’s too tight, pants that seem to be okay, and undies desperately trying to cling to my hips. Let’s not even broach the topic of my other lingerie item; I don’t think I’ve owned a brassiere of the correct size since this whole thing began. Either my cup is half-full or my cup runneth over, if you know what I mean.

That’s one of the things I really look forward to at goal weight – staying one size. Not having to shop for clothes and think “Okay, I have to buy this a little small because if I don’t, it will be too big in a few weeks and I’ll have wasted my money” would be fab. I can’t wait to buy a dress or a pair of jeans because they fit my body at that time, without worrying that as my shape/size changes, that particular piece of clothing won’t look as good.

So while my current wardrobe contains a pack of misfits, I’m content with the knowledge the someday soon, that’ll all change. Goal, here I come!

All right, let’s just get something unpleasant out of the way, shall we?

Starting stats:
Weight: 247 lbs.
BMI: 36.5

Today’s stats:
Weight: 176.2 lbs.
BMI: 26.0

I’ve made my peace with that number, mostly because things have been going AWESOMELY.

For starters, I’ve shaken things up a bit. My doctor recommended me to set my goal weight at 165 lbs. Uh… k, well, I’ve been relatively close to that weight and I wasn’t in a happy place with how I look, to say the least. But I also realize that while I may, someday, be able to get down to 145 lbs., I’m likely going to have a body shape (stick-figure) that I’m not happy with and never really wanted in the first place. I want to look less Callista Flockhart circa her Ally McBeal days, more Wonder Woman.

So I changed my goal weight. I’m now shooting for 157, a total weight loss of 90 lbs.

Also – even though it’s been less than a week since my new course of treatment, my night eating has been reduced to only once per night. This is a big change from the two, three, even four or five times I used to get up. The other night, I got up to (TMI) use the little girls’ room, and actually passed by the fridge on my way back. You read correctly… I went back to sleep without having to eat something. This NEVER happens.

And I decided to stop trying to count points for what I eat at night. Trying to put back together wrapper pieces to see how many total items there were, count bread slices to see how many are missing, etc., drive me crazy and cause me so much anxiety. Now that it’s only happening once per night, I’m just going to consider my weekly points allowance as covering what I eat during the night.

Though I feel like I’m cheating a little bit. Ever since I started taking Prozac, I’m not hungry. At all. I could happily go all day and not think of food. I still eat all my points because I plan my meals ahead of time, but I’m not starving and always looking forward to my next consumable item like I was before. With just that alone, I feel like a big weight has been lifted off of me.

The bottom line: things are better. And I hope they keep getting better.

Yesterday I visited my doctor and essentially said, “I’ve had it. I’m done. I’m at the end of my rope.” regarding night eating syndrome. Before my appointment I had made a list of all the negative ways it was impacting my life. Here are a select few excerpts:

lighting food wrappers on fire in the microwave (trying to get food unfrozen)

cutting apples in the dark with a sharp knife (not sure why all my fingers are yet intact)

ruining my teeth (brush and floss all you want, if you eat sugary things all night you’re not going to have perfect pearly whites)

And of course, there’s the big one: if you are on a weight loss plan, and you eat 1/3, half, or most of your calories during the night, where does that leave you during the day? It leaves you royally effed. You can choose to either a) starve or b) not care and eat way more calories than you can consume and still lose weight.

Then there’s the guilt. It would take me pages and pages to detail the emotional effects. Deep down, I know it’s not my fault, but when I felt so strong and confident in my abilities to lose weight for so long, and now to feel like I’m a complete failure… It’s brutal.

Why hasn’t it impacted my weight loss before this, you may be asking. First, let me say that I’ve been hovering around the same weight since November. When you’re on Weight Watchers, you receive a certain amount of points to eat every day. The more you weigh, the more points you receive. The less you weigh, the less points you get. When I had more points to consume every day, I had more leeway to screw up, if that makes any sense. Now, I get so few points as it is, that night eating has at times left me with as little as 7 points (approx. 400 calories) to eat during the day.

I’m feeling very thankful for my doctor this morning. Not all doctors would have listened as patiently as I told her I can’t even buy bread anymore because I’ll eat the entire loaf at night, or taken the time to read the articles I had printed out and brought with me, and searched her database for solutions.

Which brings me to the solution: it’s something that I never, ever wanted. And I debated even posting it here, because there is such a stigma attached to it. But I consider my weight loss journey an open book to anyone who wants to read it, and this is part of my journey.

My doctor’s suggestion? Since night eating syndrome is related to a drop in serotonin at night, let’s try 20 mg. of Prozac every day.

I am, in general, opposed to what I feel is an overmedication of America. I have never, ever, wanted to take drugs of this kind, for any reason. So I consider it a mark of my desperation and essential surrender that I am agreeing to this.

I’m giving it five weeks. If it doesn’t correct or drastically improve my night eating, then it’s getting the boot and I’ll be sitting in my doctor’s office near tears once again.